Dance With Me
by ConflictedCalypso
Summary: Set in the episode 4x12. Just my take on what happened in-between the scenes that were shown. Quinntana, one-shot.


**A/N: ****Okay, so I got this idea after I watched this week's episode and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it all down. This is pretty much the first time I've written these two together, so I hope I managed to get the tone right.**

**The title is inspired by the song 'Dance With Me', by Uh Huh Her. Obviously I don't own that, or Glee, because if I did Quinntana would totally be canon already. ;)**

"Quinn?" Kurt's voice, hesitant, called through the receiver of her phone, and she sighs. To say she'd been surprised to see his name lighting up the screen of her cell was an understatement – they hadn't spoken once since she'd left for Yale, and even then, they'd never really had much of a friendship.

And when he'd said that his reason for calling had been to stage an intervention for Rachel because he was worried about the way she'd been acting, she'd been even more surprised.

"Okay, okay. I'll do it."

"_Excellent! Thank you, I really am concerned, you know, she's like a completely different person… Now I just need to get Santana in on it too, and - "_

"Wait, _what_?" Her voice crept up an octave, not happy to hear that at all – she and Santana hadn't spoken since their last frosty exchange, which had ended up in a slapping match, one that still had her left cheek tingling whenever she thought about it.

"_Santana? I thought the two of you, together were more likely to get through to her… Is there a problem with that?" _

"No, Kurt, that's fine," she sighed again, heavier this time. She wouldn't back out of this, not if Rachel needed her help – after all, she'd been avoiding the brunette's e-mails for long enough. She hadn't meant to, not intentionally, but Rachel seemed to be having such an amazing time at NYADA, and Yale was… well, not what she'd expected.

"_Then I will see you soon, and I'll send you directions and the like after I've cleared this with Santana. Thank you again, Quinn_." He hung up, then, after her muttered goodbye, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

It was a Wednesday night, and she was stuck in her dorm room trying to finish a paper that was due in on Monday. A paper that, now that she would be departing for New York after her classes finished on Friday, she would need to finish as soon as possible.

Well, she supposed it was about time that she used those Metro North passes. Even if it meant she'd have to see Santana for an extended period of time. She tapped her pen absently on the page of her textbook at the thought of the fiery Latina, wondering whether the brunette would agree to the trip if she knew the blonde was going.

_Of course she'll go; it's New York_, the blonde decided after a moment of deliberation. She knew the brunette too well – unfortunately. Biting her lip, her gaze flickered to look out of the only window in her room, marvelling, not for the first time, at the beauty of New Haven.

She might not be having the best time here, but she couldn't deny that Yale had a certain charm about it, one that almost, _almost _made up for everything else.

She forced herself to focus back on her work, but after a few minutes of reading the same sentence several times over, she pushed herself back from the desk and decided that a walk might do her some good.

It was January, so she pulled on a thick coat and scarf before leaving her room, locking it behind her and pocketing the keys. She shared this floor, and the kitchen, with nine other people, but none were in the hallway now.

It was quieter than usual, and she wondered if maybe there was something going on that she didn't know about. Not that she really cared – she could only stomach being around two of them for an extended period of time, and she knew that neither were in for very long on a Wednesday night.

It was just starting to get dark outside, but it didn't bother her. Streetlights illuminated the path outside her building, and she admired the golden hue it cast on the stone, wondered how many others had stood in this spot, over the past three hundred years.

"Quinn!" A voice had her spinning around and looking into the face of Zack, one of the guys in her creative writing class (it was her minor, and she loved it). Zack was probably one of her closest friends here, and looked rather like a surfer with golden blonde hair and sea-blue eyes. "Hey."

"Missed you in class today." He fell into step beside her as she continued on, and he shrugged in response.

"I overslept. Did I miss much?"

"Are you crazy? 'Course not."

"I don't know why you bother going." It was her turn to shrug, then, and he just grinned, the pair coming to a stop as they arrived outside of his building. "What are you doing Friday night? It's Jamie's birthday, we're having a party."

Jamie was Zack's best friend, and Quinn was definitely not his biggest fan – which both boys knew well. Something about him reminded her too much of Finn, and she was never able to spend much time around him before getting agitated.

"Well as fun as that sounds, I actually have plans on Friday."

"Oh?"

"I'm visiting my friend in New York."

"Oh, cool. I guess I can let you off this time, then – but at some point, Q, I _will _get you to come out with us!" He turned to head inside with a smile and a wave, and she continued on her way. The nickname sent her mind spinning back to Santana, the girl never far from her thoughts, these days. She felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her jeans and pulled it out hastily, reading a text from Kurt.

_Santana's in, too. She's flying in from Kentucky but she'll still meet at Grand Central and then you can make your way over here together. See you soon. _

x-x-x

Quinn's train arrived at Grand Central at five o' clock on Friday. The journey had given her far too much time to think, to dwell on what it would be like seeing not only Santana, but Rachel and Kurt again.

She'd had only a single text from the Latina since Wednesday, merely telling her that she'd meet Quinn on the platform, but the blonde didn't see her when she stepped off the train, nearly being bowled over by several people coming from other carriages and clearly in much more of a hurry than she was.

The blonde checked her phone as she walked a few yards in order to not be stood in the middle of the crowded platform, leaning against a wall and wondering if Santana would be cruel enough to leave her here on her own, to find her own way to Rachel and Kurt's apartment.

She dismissed the thought immediately, though – they may not always have a straightforward friendship, but the brunette would never do anything that might potentially put her in danger.

Or so she hoped, anyway.

"Think I'd leave you here all alone?" A sardonic voice cut through her thoughts, and her gaze lifted to see Santana before her, smirk on her face, but eye guarded. "I don't hate you that much, Q."

Having just been about to speak a greeting, Quinn cut herself short at _that _comment, her mouth twisting, as she shoved her phone away and stalked off, leaving Santana to watch her walk away. The brunette caught up to her after a few strides, strong arm closing around her wrist and pulling her to a stop.

"Okay, okay, that was low of me." It wasn't an apology, but she hadn't really been expecting one. "Look, let's just put everything behind us, yeah? Start afresh?"

"Fine." Santana shuffled a little bit, suddenly hesitant, obviously expecting the blonde to elaborate. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Not a clue," she replied, a little more cheerfully, letting go of Quinn's arm when she decided that the blonde wasn't going anywhere. "I told Kurt I'd call him if we needed help, but… Kinda don't wanna resort to that."

"Has he told you what we're supposed to be here for?"

"Just something about a Berry-intervention. I don't know what for, though. Don't really care, either."

"Then why are here?"

"Duh. New York City, Q. It sure as hell beats being stuck in Kentucky over the weekend, or being back in Lima, constantly reminded that Brittany and Sam are together, now." Her voice didn't change, but a flash of pain in dark eyes told Quinn all she needed to know.

"I'm sorry. That they're together now."

"Yeah. Not as sorry as I am," she muttered, and the blonde knew that anything else said on the matter wouldn't be appreciated, so she let it drop.

"So, shall we try and figure out where the hell we're going?"

"Sure." Kurt's instructions were fairly specific, and they managed to navigate the subway stations well enough, and half an hour later they were stood outside a decrepit-looking apartment building, frowned up into the bright sunlight.

"Is this definitely the right place? It looks like the crack den that Rachel sent that chick that tried out for glee club to."

"How do you know what it looked like?"

"Well, I don't. But if I had to guess, it'd look like this." Quinn just rolled her eyes and strode forward, gingerly pressing the button for apartment thirty, and mentally reminding herself to wash her hands as soon as she was inside, lest she catch some form of disease.

"_Hello_?" Kurt's voice, crackly, came through the intercom, and Quinn wasn't sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief that they weren't lost or be horrified that _this _was where they were living.

"Hey, lady Hummel. We're here. Let us up before we get jumped, or raped, or something."

"_I highly doubt that will happen, Santana." _

"Are you kidding? This is dodgiest effing neighbourhood I have ever seen, and _that _is saying something considering some of the places I've seen. Now let us the hell in."

They heard the sound of Kurt laughing before the door buzzed, signifying that it was open. Quinn hauled it open and they both stepped inside, the blonde wrinkling her nose.

"I swear I can smell crack. I am not even joking," Santana whispered, mouth close to Quinn's ear, and she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Honestly, S, do you have to over-exaggerate everything?"

"I'm not! And no way in hell are we taking that lift, Q. I'm too pretty to die."

"Honestly," Quinn murmured, shaking her head in response to the brunette's antics as they headed for the stairs. It was five flights, and by the time they reached the fifth floor they were both a little out-of-breath – Quinn decided that she needed to start hitting the gym more.

The door to Kurt and Rachel's apartment was propped open by the boy himself, his face splitting into a grin as he saw them appear down the hall. "It's good to see you!" He pulled them both into a hug as they neared him, and ushered them inside when he released them. "It's not much, but it'll do," he said simply, and Quinn had to agree.

It wasn't quite as hideous as she'd imagined upon seeing the exterior of the building, and the pair had obviously tried to make it look more homely. Plus, the place was massive, more than enough space for the two of them to stay for a few days.

"I hope you don't mind sleeping out here," Kurt continued as he led them further inside to sit on one of the couches. Santana shoved her bag to the floor and collapsed beside him, Quinn sitting rather more daintily down beside her, dropped her own belongings to the ground, too. "But it's all the space we have at the minute."

"It's fine."

"Are we going to have to sleep on these god-awful couches? Because these do not look comfy for sleeping on," Santana replied at the same time as Quinn, apparently already trying to wear out their welcome.

"No. I have a camp bed you can use, it's only a single, though, but I didn't think there'd be a problem with that…" He trailed off, and Quinn's eyes met Santana's, and she wondered whether they'd make it through these few days without destroying each other.

She wondered if that was what Kurt was thinking, too.

"That's fine, too. We can share." The blonde forced a smile, and hoped neither of the other's noticed it. "So, what's been up with Rachel?"

"Oh, don't even get me started…"

x-x-x

"You're kind of a bitch, you know," Quinn called loudly over the pulsing music of the club they found themselves in, later that night. After their conversation with Rachel earlier, they'd all decided that some fun was in order, and that was how Quinn had ended up drinking just enough to make her say what was really on her mind.

"Wow, Q, you wound me." Santana and Quinn had been left to their own devices, which Kurt was getting hit on at the bar by some random guy, and Rachel and Brody were grinding rather inappropriately on the dancefloor.

"Shut up," was the most eloquent thing she could think of to reply with, and the brunette merely laughed, tilting her bottle of beer back until it was drained.

"I'm going to get another drink, do you want one?" Quinn nodded, and the brunette disappeared into the crowd a few seconds later, shoving a few people out of her way if they got too close. Quinn watched her go, glad that they were getting along but not quite sure why they were.

Santana still hadn't apologised for slapping her, though she supposed she hadn't, either – even though the brunette's comment had been totally uncalled for. Though then again, she shouldn't have said some of the things that she had, but she hadn't been able to help it.

And she'd never admit it while sober, but most of what she'd said had been true for herself, not for Santana – _she _was the one who was jealous. Jealous of the brunette's… well, everything.

A guy appeared in-front of her, then, cutting off any further thoughts, and there was something about the way he looked at her that she definitely didn't like. He lent one arm on the table she was sat at, the other hand clutching a plastic cup filled with some form of luminescent liquid that looked absolutely disgusting.

"Hey."

"Go away." She wasn't in the mood to be hit on, not tonight. She was exhausted after the train ride here, even though it had been less than two hours long, and the only reason she'd agreed to even come out was because everyone else was and she didn't want to be stuck in that apartment alone.

"That's rude."

"I know." The guy didn't take the hint, only took a step closer to her. She leant back automatically, but the movement coupled with the few drinks she'd had sent her balance off and she nearly fell.

He caught her, and she mumbled a thanks, but he didn't let go, even when she pulled back a little. "You can go now."

"If you let me buy you a drink." She was sure that he was just being nice, but she wasn't in the mood.

"Just get off me. Please."

"Hey, asshole! Get the fuck away from her before I kick you in the nuts so hard that you'll never be able to have sex ever again." Santana appeared over his shoulder, and Quinn suspected that if she hadn't had her hands full with their drinks that the guy would be on the floor already.

Thankfully, he let go of the blonde and stepped back a little, but he didn't move away completely. Santana shoved Quinn's drink into her hand and stepped close to the blonde, free arm sliding protectively around her waist.

"Get the fuck out of here. Now." With one last glance he finally turned and left, and Quinn realised then that she was shaking, just a little. When she turned to thank the brunette, she saw concern etched onto her face.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." Santana's voice was soft, and it was only then that Quinn noticed how close they were – close enough for her breath to brush against Quinn's lips. "Seriously, Q, you're still shaking."

She willed herself to stop, though she wasn't couldn't for sure now whether she was trembling in response to the warm arm wrapped around her, the touch sparking something within in that she didn't think she'd ever felt before.

"I'm okay," she said again, but it wasn't very convincing. Kurt came back over, looking a little worried himself.

"What happened?"

"Just some idiot. Look, I think I might take Q home, if that's okay with you."

"I don't need to go back, Santana, I'm _fine_."

"No, you're not. I can tell when you're lying, so don't even try that shit with me." Quinn forgot all about Kurt as their eyes locked again, and she looked hastily away before she didn't something stupid.

She'd always admired Santana – there was something about her self-confidence and how she'd stop at nothing to get what she wanted that drew her in. And there was also the fact that she was extremely attractive…

_And this is why I shouldn't drink_. She'd be lying if she said that she'd never thought about what it would be like to be with another woman. Especially lately, but that was something that she definitely _not _consider while this inebriated.

_Especially _around the Latina.

"Come on, Quinn." She tuned back into the conversation only to be tugged towards the doors by Santana, who had a tight grasp on her hand. Outside, the cool air helped sober her up a bit, and she shivered as they came to a stop, looking questionably at her companion.

"Kurt's coming too," she explained simply. "How far gone _are _you?"

"Not that much."

"Yeah, yeah." There was a sparkle in Santana's eyes, something that Quinn had missed seeing – she'd missed the brunette in general, really. It was different, going from seeing each other every day, to scattered phonecalls and few visits.

Kurt joined them a few moments later, and the three of them set off down the street, choosing to walk the few blocks back to the apartment instead of trying to hail a cab. Fifteen minutes later they were back inside where it was blissfully warm.

"You got any alcohol in this joint?" Was the first question from Santana's lips as they cleared the door, and Kurt laughed.

"Really? You haven't had enough yet?"

"Not nearly enough, my friend."

"There's a half-finished bottle of tequila in that cupboard," he flopped down onto one of the couches and indicated the cupboard in question with a wave of his hand. Quinn watched their exchange with mild amusement, before following Kurt's lead and taking a seat opposite him.

"Awesome," Santana proclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen with the bottle held high over her head. "What do you say we make our own party of it?" She perched next to Quinn, looking at them both expectantly.

"I shouldn't…" Kurt began, but trailed off when Santana's glare turned on him. "I mean, yeah, sure, why not."

Quinn laughed, pretty sure that she shouldn't drink any more but also not really caring by that point. So when Santana handed her the bottle after taking a swig, she lifted it to her lips and gulped down the bitter liquid with only a hint of a grimace, before passing it over to Kurt.

"It's not a party if there's no music," she pointed out, and a few moments later a radio was blaring out whatever rubbish was in the charts, and they carried on drinking.

She'd lost count of how much tequila she'd had by the time Kurt shouted that it would be an _excellent _idea for them to do body shots, and Quinn found herself agreeing, even as her mind screamed that no, that was a really, _really _bad idea, but she'd drunk enough for it to not matter what the rational part of her brain thought.

"Okay, then, who's first?" Quinn didn't remember Santana moving from her place beside the blonde, but she know held a plate full of lime pieces in one hand, and a cup filled with salt in the other.

She also didn't know why Kurt and Rachel would randomly just have those lying around the apartment, but oh well. The logistics of it didn't really matter.

"Me!" Kurt leant forward and licked the top of his hand before taking some of the salt and sprinkling it over the wet skin.

"I don't think you understand the concept of a body shot," Santana said as she watched him lick the salt and take a swig from the bottle before swiping a piece of lime from the plate in Santana's hands.

"It's still a body shot, it was just off my _own _body," he replied smoothly as he lay back. Santana rolled her eyes in exasperation before turning to Quinn, eyes glittering.

"What do you say we show him how it's _really _done, Q?" The brunette's voice was a note lower than her usual register, unintentionally husky, and Quinn felt herself gulp, even as she nodded in response to the brunette's question.

Santana grinned in response and shuffled closer to the blonde on the couch, and Quinn forced herself to stay focused – maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "Tilt your head to one side," the brunette murmured, and Quinn did, exposing the right side of her neck, the gesture feeling strangely intimate.

She was unable to keep her eyes open when she felt Santana's tongue sweep along her skin, and bit her lip so she didn't moan, her fingernails biting into her palms as she curled her hands into fists in an effort not to tangle them into dark locks.

The Latina moved back only to sprinkle the salt along the area where her tongue had been just seconds before, and Quinn's eyes opened to lock onto dark brown – much darker than usual, unless she was imagining it. She wondered if this was affecting Santana as much as it was affecting her.

"You forgot the lime," Kurt 's voice snapped Quinn back into focus, her gaze shooting over Santana's shoulder to where he was lounging, looking far too interested in what was happening.

"I was getting to that," Santana muttered, turning to pick up a wedge pressing it to Quinn's mouth. She held it lightly between her teeth, eyes fluttering closed again when she felt Santana's mouth on her neck once again.

She pulled away to take a gulp from the bottle, and then her lips were pressed to Quinn's as she lifted the lime from her mouth, tongue brushing lightly against the blonde's, and she couldn't stop a soft moan from leaving her mouth, then.

When Santana pulled back their eyes locked once more, and there was definitely something heated in the brunette's gaze. Kurt cleared his throat, loudly, shattering the moment, and they both turned to look at him, Quinn blushing slightly.

"I'm going to bed," he announced, hopping lightly to his feet (she was sure he shouldn't be able to do that with how much he'd had to drink). "If you're going to have sex, please do it on the camp bed and not on the couch, because at least then I can wash the sheets."

Smirking, he turned and left them alone, the door of his bedroom shutting with a definite click behind him. "Another drink?" Santana murmured, breaking the silence and holding the bottle out to the blonde once more.

She nodded and took a swig even though she knew she shouldn't – but maybe if she carried on, that annoying voice in her head would shut up, and maybe then she wouldn't be questioning the looks that Santana was sending her way.

The bottle was almost empty by the time they eventually decided to stop – and it was only after they'd both burst into uncontrollable giggles that they came to that decision. "We should go to bed," Quinn whispered, glancing at the clock that hung on one wall and noticing that it was three in the morning.

"You're no fun," Santana pouted, which set Quinn off giggling again.

"You're cute when you pout," she blurted when she finally stopped, and Santana raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you - "

She was cut off by a kiss, as Santana lurched forward and pressed their lips together, her hands on Quinn's hips, pulling her so that they were pressed together, both on their knees on the couch. Quinn's hand wrapped around the back the brunette's neck as her mouth opened to the blonde's searching tongue, and they both moaned this time as their tongues met, albeit clumsily.

Santana pulled back after a few minutes, forehead resting against Quinn's, chest heaving, and Quinn just breathed her in, thinking that she'd never been kissed so thoroughly in her life. "Stand up," Santana whispered against her lips, and she opened her eyes, frowning, confused at the command.

"Kurt _did _tell us not to have sex on his couch," she reminded the blonde, and Quinn laughed, but then she registered the brunette's words and very nearly started panicking – after all, she'd only ever had sex once, and that had ended disastrously, plus it hadn't been with a _woman. _

"Hey," Santana's hand moved up to cup the blonde's cheek gently, more gently than Quinn would have thought her capable off. "It's okay. We can stop." But there desire Quinn saw in her eyes conflicted with her words, and it was only then that the blonde realised that she didn't _want _to stop.

So she stood, and yanked Santana with her, before leaned back on the camp bed and pulling Santana with her, until she was lying down and the brunette was straddling her hips, weight resting on her arms, either side of Quinn's head.

"Are you sure?" Santana murmured again, even as her lips were brushing against the blonde's, just slightly.

"Just shut up and kiss me," she breathed back, hand tangling back into Santana's hair and pulling her down to lie fully on-top of her, lips meeting in a frenzied kiss. Her free hand ran along the brunette's side, not quite confident enough to do anything more than that.

Santana's mouth eventually left her own and trailed down the side of her neck, and she felt teeth scrape against her pulse point, gasp leaving her mouth at the contact, as the brunette smirked against her skin.

"You'd better not leave a mark," Quinn cautioned, voice raspy, but it was half-hearted. The brunette lifted her head and grinned, mouth descending on the blonde's once more as one of her hands slid smoothly underneath the blonde's black dress, nails running over the top of her thighs, digging in with just enough pressure for it to border on that glorious threshold between pleasure and pain.

Emboldened, Quinn's own hand crept up and over the brunette's ribcage until it reached the swell of her breast, squeezing the flesh between her fingertips, own moan echoing the Santana's when she realised that she wasn't wearing a bra.

She could feel the peak of the brunette's nipple against her palm and teased it between her fingertips, rewarded with Santana's hand moving between her legs to cup her through her underwear, and Quinn's hand tightened in Santana's hair, gasp falling from her lips, both from the sensation and at feeling how wet she was, already, just from kissing.

"Damn, Q," the brunette murmured against her lips when she pulled back slightly, finger running across the blonde's underwear. "If you'd have told me you were so hot for me we could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble," she teased.

"Shut up."

"And kiss you?"

"And _fuck _me," she pulled Santana's mouth down to her again, nit in the mood to talk, not in the mood for anything – just wanted to bury herself in this feeling, knowing that someone wanted her back.

The Latina kissed her back with fervour, their teeth clashing more than once as she continued to tease the blonde, running backwards and forwards across her underwear, circling her clit lightly through the material, but never venturing underneath.

"Santanaaaa," Quinn whined, pulling back, panting, and looking up at the brunette pleadingly. "_Please_." Their eyes stayed locked as she pulled the blonde's underwear to one side and ran her index finer through her folds, Quinn's eyes slipping shut as her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

"I want to hear you," Santana breathed, voice husky, right into Quinn's ear, and she couldn't stop a moan at that, when coupled with a light circle around her clit. "You can do better than that, Q." She pressed down harder, and Quinn's hips lifted of their own accord, pushing into the Santana's hand.

"But-but what about K-kurt?" She managed to stutter out through gasps as Santana moved lower, sliding a single finger into the blonde as her thumb pressed against her clit. Quinn's hands fell from where they'd been clutching at Santana's back, to her sides, fingers burying themselves in the bedsheets in an effort to keep herself grounded.

"I don't give a fuck about Kurt."

"Oh, _shit_," she breathed as Santana pulled out, only to pass over her clit before thrusting two fingers back inside, starting up a rhythm that had the blonde's hips lifting and her back arching. Santana's lips moved to cover her own, lips moving hungrily over hers.

Quinn was completely lost to ecstasy, barely even able to kiss the brunette back, she was so far gone – that was, until, Santana's hand stilled inside her and she pulled back, hovering a few inches above the blonde's lips.

"What are you _doing_?" She groaned, but Santana just shushed her. A little outraged, the Quinn opened her mouth to speak her mind, and that was when she heard it – the sound of a key in the lock.

She'd completely forgotten about Rachel and Brody.

Who were apparently struggling to get the door open, because it wasn't until a few moments later that they actually managed to get inside, trying (and failing) to laugh quietly. "Come here," she heard Brody whisper, and then there was the sound of the door slamming shut, and Quinn couldn't be completely sure, but it sure as hell seemed like the pair of them were getting it on against it.

"You have got to be kidding me," Santana murmured, looking faintly disgusted, and Quinn bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. But then the brunette's fingers fluttered, still inside her, and her eyes flickered shut, biting her lip now for a completely different reason. "But let's have a little fun of our own, shall we?"

Hopefully it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, because the blonde found herself unable to answer when Santana's fingers started moving again, setting an even faster pace than before, and she was grateful when she kissed her again, because otherwise there was no way in hell she was going to be able to keep quiet.

It wasn't long before she could feel herself tightening around Santana's fingers, feel that pull in her stomach telling her that she was close, and then she was falling off the edge a few seconds later, the brunette slowing but not stilling until Quinn came down from her high, her head falling back against the pillows with a muted thud, her breath coming out on short pants.

She could hear Rachel and Brody making out somewhere in the vicinity, but she didn't care – she was in too much bliss to even be able to move. She felt the loss of Santana as she slid her hand free, out of the blonde's underwear, and collapsed on the camp bed next to her, kissing her lightly.

"That was amazing," Quinn breathed, voice soft, suddenly feeling awfully exposed and vulnerable, but Santana's arm slid across her waist and pulled her close, so that their foreheads were touching.

"Yeah, it was." They kissed again then, apparently not able to keep their hands to themselves any more, but broke apart at the sound of a loud moan coming from near the door. "Oh, my god."

"I don't need to listen to this."

"Never fear, Fabray." Santana grinned, eyes mischievous, and she shoved herself upright so that she was tall enough to be able to see above the top of the couch. "Hey! Horny bitches! There are other people here, so why don't you take your asses to your perfectly good bedroom and lock the door, huh?"

"Shit!"

"Santana I-I completely forgot that you were here, I - "

"Oh, save it Berry. I mean, good for you, getting laid and all, but really. I don't need to hear it."

"Sorry," she squeaked, before Quinn saw her and Brody high-tailing it into Rachel's room, and both she and Santana burst into laughter.

"You're the best."

"Why? Because I saved you from having to listen to gross sex?" Quinn just rolled her eyes, and Santana grinned, before stretching. "I'm going to the bathroom. And also to get changed, because I don't think sleeping in this dress is such a good idea."

"But…"

"Yeah?" Santana's glanced down towards where Quinn was lying, having already stood up.

"I… didn't… um, return the favour."

"You didn't have to, Q. Trust me when I say that that was more than enough for me." Their eyes met and Quinn smiled a shy smile, and then Santana padded away, only to return a few moments later with a glass of water in one hand and pankillers in the other. "For the morning," she explained. "I figure with the amount that we drank we should probably take as much precaution as possible."

"Thanks," she murmured, and the brunette leant down to press a soft kiss to her lips before disappearing into the bathroom. Quinn pushed herself upright, still feeling a little shaky, and managed (just about), to yank her dress over her head and pull on the pair of shorts and tank top she wore to sleep on, before collapsing against the covers.

She was a hundred percent sure that if not for that tequila, none of this would have happened, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Not with the memory of what it felt like to have Santana's fingers buried inside of her; not when she still felt like she was floating.

She could worry about that in the morning, she decided. They could talk about what it meant then – but for now, she was content, a feeling that only intensified when she felt Santana slide into the bed beside her and wrap a tan arm around her waist, pulling her backwards so that they were pressed tightly together.

It was undoubtedly the best night's sleep she'd ever had.


End file.
